Looking for Alibrandi Short Story
by Lone-leeHeart's4894
Summary: This is the Short Story i wrote for my English Class based on the book "Looking for Alibrandi" it's in Marcus Sandford's POV. Please tell me what you think of it.


I remember when I first met her.

I was at the post office that day. Mrs. Jones beside me was almost passing out from the heat. I tried to make small talk to pass the time but it seems as if she had other ideas and chose to ignore me along with everything else around her. So I busied myself at looking at the patterns on the floor.

Time seemed to move slowly, and I was in the middle of counting the dents on the floor when I, along with every other person in here was met with the most blood-curling heart breaking scream. No one moved and I focused my attention to where the source of distress was coming from and found my eyes to be drawn to a small figure crouched on the ground, clutching a letter in her fist and tears running down her face.

All my life, until this moment, I have never seen anything so... Fragile.

Fragile she might be, but on second glance, you could immediately tell how pretty she was. She had long dark hair that fell down her shoulders in little waves; she had olive skin that seemed to be porcelain smooth. And from her stance I could tell she wasn't that much taller than the average woman.

She fascinated me.

It was as if someone put a spotlight on her and I was her willing audience. Everyone else's attention was solely focused on the dark haired beauty as well.

I couldn't help but feel somewhat protective of her and I guessed that had she stopped and think, she probably wouldn't let the people here watch her in her most vulnerable state. So I forced my feet to move from where they were glued to the floor and let them carry me to where she was. I approached her hesitantly, for I didn't want to upset her more. And with gentleness that surprised me, I slowly picked up her shaking form off the floor I was relieved when she didn't start hitting me or something; but instead she clung her tiny hands on me and cried some more; and carried her out the back.

I found out her name was Katia Alibrandi; I tried making small talk with her, but it turns out that she knew very little or no English at all, and she spoke of fluent Italian. Her silence though was comforting and I felt truly at ease around her. We just spent our time together in silence for I didn't want to pry in whatever it was that made her so upset and make her uncomfortable.

When it was time for me to leave, I stood up from where I sat and waved goodbye to her, I was hoping that she understood at least what that meant.

I visited her a lot after that. Day after day I kept coming back to her, I couldn't stay away. I found myself craving her presence more and more every day, and it always disappoints me whenever it's time to leave for the night.

I helped her out in the gardens, and get things for her in town whenever she is unable to go out. I also taught her a bit of English so that we could somewhat understand each other better.

We were spending time with each other one day when a man came in through the door; he stopped in his tracks when he saw us sitting so close to one another. Katia stood up from where she was sitting so quickly that I almost missed it. The man, whoever he was, looked furious; you can somewhat compare his image at that moment to that of an enraged bull. I decided to be friendly and ignore how he was acting and held out my hand and introduced myself.

"Hey there, the name's Marcus Sandford" I said in a cheery voice, hoping that it would warm him up at least; but I was met with silence and then I awkwardly dropped my hand and turned to Katia.

"So, I guess I'll see you another time then?" I looked at her, and found that she wasn't even looking at me. So I picked up my things and exited through the door. I stayed for a couple of minutes, and then I heard the man yelling at Katia in Italian, I couldn't understand what he was saying but it was obvious that he was livid.

I stopped my visits to Katia, in fear of encountering the man again. I harbored a guess that this man was the mysterious Francesco Alibrandi that many of the townspeople talk about. I didn't want to intrude anymore on their personal lives more than I already had.

I chose to turn my back from the relationship I have slowly built up with Katia, so I decided it best if I never saw her again.

I also ignored the ache in my heart when I thought of being away from Katia Alibrandi.

* * *

It has been two years since I last saw her.

I convinced myself that I had no romantic feelings for her, and that I only cared for her as a friend.

I was busying myself with the war in Australia, but I sometimes find my thoughts wandering to her again. Her sweet smile, her beautiful silky dark hair that cascaded down her shoulders, her deep dark eyes that was the same colour as melted chocolate; just everything about her.

I was walking down the road when I spotted what seemed to be a group of females, and I quickly went over to them, worried that they are out here without any male presence and in the middle of a war too. I walked over to where they were and my heart skipped a beat when one of those females seemed vaguely familiar to me. I would know because she haunts my subconscious on nights end.

"Katia?" I called out to her, a smile on my face. Her other companions were looking at her with surprise written on their faces.

She then turned to me, her look of clear confusion until realization kicked in and she gave me a heart-warming smile.

"Marcus Sandford" she breathed out.

I was ecstatic that she remembered my name.

"How are you?" I asked her.

Her face then looked solemn and I was afraid that she forgot how to speak English and didn't know what I was saying. However, she surprised me by telling me everything that has happened to her, and she was also speaking in English.

It turns out that the Italian men, even boys were taken to the concentration camp because of Benito Mussolini; and the women were forced to fend for themselves.

I tried to reassure the women that it would all be alright, and I told them I would do my best to have one of the men released. However we all knew that that was impossible.

I decided to help by helping them with their chores. I helped fix their gardens, and plant the spinaches, even squeeze the tomatoes for them. I even helped when Patrizia was in labour, and I helped take care of Roberto and little Salvatore.

I formed a bond with most of the women, but some are still wary of my presence; however I chose to ignore it because I am doing the right thing by helping them.

Things between Katia and I were progressing. No longer do I question my feelings for her, because I knew that I loved her. I knew then, that I would do whatever it takes to make her happy, and I would always be there for her.

One day when I was out fixing the gardens, the scorching heat of the sun was beating down my back and rivulets of sweat was dripping down my skin, I received news that little Roberto was missing and that everyone was looking for him. I helped look for him because I knew that it was driving Katia and Patrizia crazy that little Roberto is gone. I went through the places Roberto liked to go to, and even places I wouldn't even consider him going to but it was worth a shot.

I looked everywhere to no avail, and I stopped on a nearby creek for rest. The water was so still and eerie; something caught my eye, I felt bile on my throat when I realized that it was a figure of a human. My heart was beating rapidly and my breathing was uneasy, in my head I was hoping to God that it isn't what I'm thinking it to be. My suspicions were confirmed and I felt anguish and there were tears prickling my eyes. I cradled the small figure in my arms; I hated myself for not being able to come fast enough. I could have prevented this, but I am powerless to stop anything. I made my way back home, a heavy burden on my shoulders, and tears falling freely down my face.

Katia blamed me for it. She was mad at me and I couldn't blame her. She told me never to come again; she also said that she hated me.

Her words cut me like a knife, and I didn't stop her because she was right, and I deserved it.

* * *

It was December, and it was extremely hot. It felt like being placed in a giant oven, and just left there. It was hot enough that you cold melt ice not five seconds after it was left outside.

I went to the post office to go and check my mail. I got some letters from my parents, and most of the others were bills that I had to pay. I was about to leave when the man that worked there asked me if it would be alright to drop off this letter to Katia Alibrandi.

Katia.

Just the sound of her name brought the memories I have tried so very hard to forget, to come rushing back as clearly as if it only happened yesterday.

I almost refused; but then I thought about how I didn't want my relationship with Katia to be left like this. Where I don't get to see her ever again, and the last time that I did see her was when she told me how much she hated me, and it felt as if I was being shot with a thousand rifles being fired at the same time. Yet I didn't bring myself to care, because I felt numb; and emptiness was all that was left.

For weeks, I have been pining over her. Every time I close my eyes, her deep dark ones would appear in my head. I thought I would be able to deal with this, but it turns out that my feelings for her were deeper than the ocean.

I loved her.

I loved her and I don't think I would be able to let her go.

Not anymore.

I found out that the letter was from her sister Patrizia, and that it was at least sitting in the post office for days collecting dust. As I made my way down the familiar path to where she lived, I couldn't ignore the fact that I was elated and terrified at the same time. Happy to see her again after so long, and scared of how she might react; I know that she is still somewhat angry at me and I know for a fact that she doesn't want to see my face again.

I was in front of her house now; and the only thing that was blocking me from her was the five centimeters of wood.

I decided to man up and get over it. I walked up to her verandah and slowly raised my fist and knocked on the door; my palms were sweating and I started regretting this.

What if she started yelling at me again, and starts telling me those horrible things again?

I was calculating the seconds it would take me to sprint down the road away from sight, when the door slowly opened. The moment my eyes met hers, it felt like the whole world has stopped revolving. Any thoughts I had of leaving again been thrown out the door when I saw her again. I never wanted to leave and I wanted her with me always.

"What are you doing here?" her voice bought me out of my musings. Her voice sounded harsh, cold and bitter; so unlike from the soft soprano voice that I got used to.

I bought up my hand that was holding the letter and handed it to her. At first she flinched away as if I was something dangerous, and it hurt me to think that she thinks I would do anything to hurt her.

"I bought this for you, it's from your sister" I told her trying to prevent my voice from cracking.

Hesitantly she raised her hand, and took the letter from me. I looked at her eyes for one last time before she averted hers.

We stood there in uncomfortable silence for a few minutes, not saying anything and her eyes still not meeting mine.

"Thank you, but I could have gotten it myself" she said stiffly, but from the years I have known her, I managed to catch the sound of disconcertment in her voice.

"Yes, but it was already there for days and the man from the post office told me to deliver it to you" I argued with her.

"Thank you anyway" she said for one last time.

She said no more and made a move to close the door; but I wouldn't have any of that because I didn't want to go. I didn't have the strength to let go. I put my foot out to stop the door from closing and that was when I saw her eyes. It was glassy and filled with unshed tears; I wanted to gather her in my arms, to tell her that I am here and that everything would be alright from now on, so I did; but she pushed me away before I could even touch her.

"Katia, please don't do this. It would break my heart if we would end things this way, please don't leave" I said to her, my voice cracking and tears brimming my eyes.

I begged her not to do this, but she just shook her head, and pushed me out of her door.

I didn't want to leave her, never again. I wanted her to be with me always and forever.

I pushed my way into her house and grabbed her arms gently as not to hurt her; I looked into her eyes and she was crying; my hand came up to her cheek and I gently caressed it, I wiped away her tears with my calloused thumb and whispered words of devotion to her.

"I love you" I told her, and I held her frame tightly against mine.

I finally told her the three words I have been dying to tell her ever since I realized that my life is a meaningless void, and I am not complete without her.

And at that night I decided to let her know how much I truly wanted her, and how much I loved her; and I fell asleep with my whole world in my arms, and I knew then, that she would be the only one for me.

We spent two more months together; and those were the happiest that I have ever spent in my entire life. She was my sun, that light up the darkness in my life; I loved her.

Time and time again, I have begged of her to leave Francesco, and to come and live a new life with me, where I would do everything it takes to ensure that she is happy and loved by me; but time and time again, she has refused, because she said that it wouldn't be right. I told her right and wrong don't matter as long as it was what she wanted.

One day he came back; and just like that, it was like the past two months with her never happened. I would be lying when I say it hurt; because it didn't; because I was empty now.

My heart no longer beats.

I left because it was her choice, and I didn't fight it nor question it, because it was what she wanted; and I promised her that I would do anything to make her happy; and if being with him makes her happy, I would let her go even if it hurts.

I would never stop loving her. She would always be in my heart; but she wasn't mine.

I would always be hers.

I would always wait for her with open arms if she decided to come back to me, but it would be like waiting for rain in the middle of a drought; but I would not lose hope because I saw something in her eyes that made me believe that she feels the same for me too.

They say time heals all wounds; but I don't think time can cure the pain.

The sorrow lessens through time, but I know it won't go away completely. It's still there, but only a shadow of what used to be.

I wish we could have met at a simpler time where there is no Francesco, and she wasn't Katia Alibrandi.

I would never lose hope that one day, she and I would be together again, where we would be truly happy in each others arms; but the days go by, and the days turn into weeks, and the weeks turn into months, and the months turn into years until I can wait no more.

She was my sun. Without the sun we are left with darkness. So I sit outside on another moonless night, waiting for the day that my sun would reappear from the clouds, to shed her light on my darkness.

* * *

**So please tell me what you think of my short story :)**


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